


Divinity's Children

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodswap, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, also swearing, denizens are gods, monarchies and princes and knights oh my, relationships progress slowly, there will probably be a lot of flashbacks, tyrian!karkat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first mission Dave Strider fails is his last. As a Skaian knight, he's used to jobs that involve humans, mainly aggressive humans who rely on weapons; he is not used to trolls, and he is definitely not used to troll magic. The first mission Dave Strider fails involves both of these things, and it lands him in the Alternian slave system, where he is purchased by the enemy of his former princess—an imperial prince whose mystery almost matches his temper.</p>
<p>But the children of gods walk in their midst. Neither the knight nor the prince is entirely who they claim to be, and they soon find themselves caught in a tangle of secrets, alliances, and hidden pasts that may very well lead to complete chaos. In a world where no one is as they seem, trust is of the essence.</p>
<p>As the kingdoms advance, the gods stir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divinity's Children

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This fic was partially inspired by the wonderful art of ryu-gemini, whose [depictions](http://ryu-gemini.tumblr.com/post/41179056388/h-here-just-take-it-falls-down) of [tyrian-blooded](http://ryu-gemini.tumblr.com/post/41847006641/oops-here-u-go-have-some-makeouts) [Karkat](http://ryu-gemini.tumblr.com/post/40948374829/wow-so-i-dont-normally-do-requests-but-this-one) were fantastic. I took some creative liberties, so the characters you see in her art do not match mine exactly. That being said, enjoy the fic!
> 
> Side note: there is a yellow-blood in this chapter. This yellow-blood is neither Sollux nor Mituna—he is just a yellow-blood. Sollux WILL appear in later chapters (Chapter 2, maybe?), but the chapters in which he appears do not include this one. Nameless yellow-blood is a nameless yellow-blood.  
> Also, this is a blood-swap fic, so yellow-bloods would be either Equius or Horuss anyway. Sollux and Mituna would be dark blue.

Your first mistake is lighting the candle.

The wick springs to life with a _hiss_ , releasing a soft, orange glow that illuminates your surroundings. It’s still dark, yes, but you can make out the wooden chair in the corner, the runes on the floor beneath you; the entire place has been enchanted up the wazoo, yet you stand there unharmed and ready for action. Thanks to the bracelet you wear, the runes believe you’re a friend, and they shouldn’t paralyze you for the duration of your visit.

There are no trolls present, thank fuck.

Your prize sits in a velvet pouch across the room. The pouch itself lies on the old chair, but the simplicity is just an illusion—spells have snaked their way around the chair legs and through the framework, blinking ominously in your other sight. The spells are cobalt blue; a Scorpio enchanted this chair, no doubt a powerful one. You may be here for a while.

“They spelled the altar,” you whisper into the amulet around your neck. It flashes green, and a pair of gray gloves appear in the air before you, sparking with electricity. You grab them before they drop.

The gloves feel strange around your hands, coarse but energized. They tingle a little when you move your fingers, and the right one crackles after you touch the amulet. They are in perfect condition; whatever spellmaster the trolls have on their side, the humans have a better one.

“Altar type?” says a voice through your amulet.

“Chair. Ancient as fuck, probably pine wood. Looks fragile.”

“Hold the seat with your left hand and take the jewel with your right,” says the amulet. “Is the surrounding area also spelled?”

You blink. “Yeah, they did the entire room. The two-foot circle around the chair is crazy, but it’s more Scorpio shit, same as the altar. You think the gloves will hold up?”

“I can’t say for sure. Just don’t touch the chair too long—you need to make physical contact before you take the jewel, but if you’re not careful, the gloves will spaz out.”

“Relax,” you say, grinning. “Careful is my middle name.”

Your second mistake is, of course, overconfidence.

The air in front of the altar feels thick, as if you could reach out and grab a handful. Spells dance in your other vision, cobalt blue and vaguely menacing; were it not for your bracelet, you would probably be dead.

The runes beneath your feet continue to spiral. They aren’t doing much else, so you feel safe enough to take a step towards the gem; your footfall is the only sound in the room.

“The runes are safe,” you say.

“Good,” says the amulet. “Approach the altar.”

You begin to creep towards the chair, keeping your footsteps as light as possible. The silence is getting on your nerves, and you’ve decided to never sign up for this super-spy bullshit ever again, not while you still have a say on your own missions. Once the princess reforms the system, things will be different, but hopefully you’ll be able to snag more of the the super-smackdown jobs and not the lame, assassin-y ones that have you tiptoe-ing around like a ballerina.

At last you reach the altar. The pouch before you beckons, but you only stare at it with suspicion.

“What happens if the gloves stop working?” you say, examining the chair itself. “Can I just, I don’t know, chuck a glove at the gem before actually grabbing it? See if my glove catches on fire or something, save myself a lot of effort?”

“No!” says the voice through your amulet. “The gloves will work just fine! I made them myself, and I can guarantee you they withstand any kind of magic!”

“What about troll magic? You should see this fucking altar, Jade, it’s a complete mess—Scorpio traces all over the chair, shit-ton of runes, the works. If these gloves aren’t compatible with troll magic, I am going to fly completely off the fucking handle.”

“Acrobatic fucking pirouette?” she giggles.

“You know it. Seriously, though, I’m a little worried.” That’s an outright lie—of course you’re not worried. However intimidating trolls can be during diplomatic conferences, there’s no way that shoddy of a government can pull off a master defense system to rival Skaia’s master military. You have to admit, you know next to nothing about trolls, but if their behavior at the landing party was any indication, they can’t coordinate anything to save their lives.

Then again, trolls _are_ known for their magic. You probably should have done more research.

“Okay, I’m gonna do it,” you say, running through the plan in your head once more: _Grab the chair with one hand. Grab the pouch with the other. Run._ “Is the door clear?”

“Yes, the area’s secure. Now grab that sucker and get out of there!”

You take a deep breath. _Grab the chair with one hand, grab the pouch with the other, run._

You reach a hand towards the chair. The Scorpio strands buzz with anticipation, and your nerves twitch. _Grab the chair with one hand..._

Your palm grazes the seat. In a bright flash of light, your left glove is ablaze, trying to fend off the Scorpio magic; you stare at it unblinkingly before remembering your obligations. _Grab the pouch with the other..._

Your right hand snatches the gem. The Scorpio strands surrounding your left hand streak towards the center of the chair, but it’s already too late—you have the gem, and you’re free to go, and what was the last part of the plan again—

“Freeze!” says a voice.

It takes a moment for you to register that the voice is not Jade’s.

_Shit._

You take off in a sprint. Within seconds, you’ve made a complete 180 and are racing towards the doorway, where a darkened figure now stands. Its build is short and stocky; its eyes are blue and red. The colors tug at something in your memory, but you don’t have time to think about them.

Only one thought fills your mind: _How the hell did this guy get past Jade?_

The figure takes a step forward. “In the name of His Imperial Highness, I command you to stop!” His voice is calm, assured, and you feel tempted to smack the smugness right out of his system. There’s only one entrance here, but there’s only one guy to get past, and odds are two to one in your favor.

The figure’s eyes begin to glow. Now you remember what red and blue means.

“Shit!” you hiss as sparks erupt around you. You know what this guy is now, he’s a fucking Gemini, and he’s gonna build up a huge-ass amount of electricity until his eyes explode all over the room and you die miserably. Gods help you.

“Once again, in the name of His Imperial Highness, I command you to stop.” The strain is audible in his voice, but he knows he has the upper hand. “Surrender the gem and I will spare your life.”

“Okay, look, how about we just—”

“Surrender the gem.”

“It’s not even _your_ gem, for gods’ sakes, you people fucking stole it from us a century ago—”

“This is your final warning.” Fuck, he’s actually going to do it. His eyes are practically on fire by now, searing red and electric blue; his stance is rigid, and his gaze is pointed towards you.

“Dave!” a voice says. “Dave, what’s going on?”

You look down at your amulet. So do the glowing eyes.

“Dave! Answer me, you big butt!”

The figure looks up at you again. “You have contact with another party,” he says.

You nod.

“Who are you working with?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“ _Who_ are you _working_ with?” His eyes have begun to dim, but the sparks in the air haven’t diminished. “Tell me or I will destroy you.”

“What, you’ll destroy me? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?”

The figure’s eyes narrow. “You will tell me who your allies are, or I will force the answer out of you.”

“Force the answer? What—” You pause. “Okay, how about this—I put the gem back where I found it, you go back to wherever the fuck you came from, and we both leave without sustaining fatal injuries. Does that sound like a good plan to you?”

The figure chuckles. “You clearly do not know Alternian law,” he says, and his shark-tooth grin is visible from across the room. “You have already committed a grave offense. Theft of a high-blood is punishable by death in Alternia, and since you have entered the Alternian government’s private vault, you are now standing on Alternian soil. This makes you subject to all Alternian laws, and you shall be punished as such.”

You glance down at the ground below you. The runes circle you tauntingly, and you grimace. “Technically I haven’t stolen a thing yet,” you say, looking back up at your aggressor. “If I put the gem back, it’ll be like I was never here.”

“No,” says the figure. “If you put the gem back, you will be charged for _attempted_ theft instead of _successful_ theft. Attempted theft is punishable by death as well.”

You blink. “That’s stupid,” you tell him. “Can I just leave?”

His eyes flash.

“Give me a break, I had no fucking clue about the foreign-soil thing. I could have sworn this was considered Skaian territory. Are you sure this is Alternian?”

He nods.

“Gods, this is stupid. If I plead ignorance, do I get off without a punishment?”

He shakes his head.

“You all suck. Every single troll in Alternia fucking sucks, you especially.”

“I’ll make this quick,” the figure says, his eyes beginning to glow brighter. Your eyes scan the room for another way out, but the door is the only obvious exit; the space above the figure’s head looks promising, but getting through that would require either apprehending the figure, a well-placed jump, or using another talent you’ve already sworn off for good. On top of that, you don’t know how armed the figure is—he could have no weapons, or he could have several. You are, plain and simple, at a disadvantage.

When you start running again, the figure doesn’t move. His eyes are dangerously bright now, but you ignore them and circle around the edge of the room, keeping a firm grip on the gem’s pouch; you finally look up at the figure, then realize his eyes are following you. If you hold up your gloves in time, will they take the brunt of the blast?

You are now five feet from the troll. The sparks are thicker here, and they crackle in your ears as you run past them. One of them hits your cheek; you wince and try to ignore the stinging.

Two feet from the troll. You tug on empty air, and where you pull, a sword comes sliding out of the void. It hangs from between your fingers, and you feel confident.

One foot. The troll is staring straight at you. Its eyes are full of energy; it looks ready to burst.

You duck as beams of light shoot out.

From the ground, you grab the troll’s ankle and pull. His balance falters, and his eyes turn towards you, still red and blue and burning. You roll out of the way just before they graze you.

Now behind the troll, you steady your sword and swing. The troll jumps, and your sword hits empty air, causing you to keel forward with the weight. You land on your forearm and somersault over the sword’s swing; you are squatting, and your sword is ready once again.

You turn to the troll. His eyes are not ablaze.

“You done yet?” you say, bringing your sword back for another swing.

“Not nearly,” he replies.

You swing at the troll. He ducks under your blade, and his hand reaches up to grab it, as if he can stop the sheer force with his own grip.

His fingers close around the edge.

Immediately he lets go. You can’t see anything in the dark, but you know he’s staring at his hand, watching blood well up from a cut he hadn’t expected to gain.

“Your sword didn’t look that sharp,” he says.

“Of course it didn’t.” You take a step towards the troll, and he jumps out of the way. “That’s the whole point.”

“Human blades are never that sharp. Where the hell did you get that?”

“It was a gift.”

“From who?”

You glance at the sword, then back at him. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” you say.

“Son of a bitch.” The troll takes a running leap at you, and you have no time to react. He’s on top of you in an instant, leaving you scrambling for a good angle to strike him; he reaches for the hilt of your sword, and in the dimming candlelight you can see yellow nails on his fingers, the tips of which could slice you in half.

“Get the _fuck_ off of me,” you say. The troll’s hands are angry, but inexperienced, and you’re almost certain he hasn’t practiced hand-to-hand combat. “I’m not—”

“The sword or the gem,” he says. “Give me the sword or the gem.” He scrabbles for your right wrist, and you find it telling that he isn’t scrabbling for your left. “Give me—”

You smack his forehead with the hilt of your sword. He falls back, and you knee him in the chest, sending him sinking to the floor. He tries to grab your leg, but you step out of the way.

“Give...” he murmurs. You smack him again with the flat part of your sword. His eyes flutter closed, and his head hits the floor.

“Gods,” you mutter. After checking your left hand for the pouch (yep, still there), you look up at the doorway, which reveals the outskirts of Skaia City outside. There is no door to the Alternian vault, yet no one has ever tried to break in; whether that’s because of fear or wisdom, you do not know, but you are probably one of the first humans to ever set foot in this place.

Only trolls are allowed in this area. Even then, they’re hardly ever in Skaia—they spend most of their time in Alternia, so they only stuff their valuables in this vault when they’re on diplomatic visits, then retrieve their valuables when they sail home. Of course, you didn’t realize that “valuables” meant just _one_ valuable, but luckily, that’s the only thing you need on this mission. You’ve found that item, successfully taken that item, and are about to walk out of the building with that item, all in the space of an hour. Job well done.

The amulet still hangs from your neck, and you reach down and bring it up to your mouth. “Jade,” you say. “I’m okay, there was a guard or something but I knocked him out. Did you see him on the map?”

Jade doesn’t reply.

“Okay, that’s cool. Listen, I’m gonna head back now, so make sure the fourth entrance is open.” You pause and look down at the troll. “Do you have any clue what the fuck to do with this guy’s body? There’s no way I can kill him—he works for the crown, and we’ll have a huge mess on our hands if I do any permanent damage. Can someone do a memory wipe? Is there a representative of the Void staying with us right now? I’m just firing off suggestions, feel free to speak up if you have something in mind.” You wait. “No response? Cool. I’ll see you when I get back.”

The air outside feels nice on your face. Cool and breezy, it clears your mind of the bicolored sparks that were floating around the vault, and you breathe it in with pleasure. You don’t get this kind of air in the city, not with all the sweating and the crowding and the humanity that goes on within its borders. You remember when you used to live on the outskirts. That was a long time ago.

“Going somewhere?”

You glance to your right. A troll stands about ten feet away, holding what looks like a mace in her right hand. Her hair is cut short, her lashes are long, and her nose is perfectly pointed. She looks like a good liar.

“And you are?”

“The guard,” she says, smiling; her lips are painted black. “The man you met was only the night watchman. I apologize that I wasn’t there to greet you, but perhaps I can still say goodbye.”

You look up at the night sky, patterns of escape flashing through your head. “Your friend was a a sucky watchman,” you say. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be, like, super good at combat? That was probably the lamest technique I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s new.” The troll takes a step forward. “However, I take it you’re not so new to these kinds of ventures. Who do you work for?”

“That’s what the other guy asked me,” you say. Your eyes move to the mace in her hand. “How do you know I’m not a solo act?”

“I’ve seen your amulet before,” the troll says. “That’s a very unique stone in it, a type of emerald, if I’m not mistaken. Perfect for transmitting the abilities of a Space user. Do you work with a partner?”

“Who I work with is none of your business. If you really want to talk, you can tell me how many guards you have stationed in this area.”

She smiles again. “We have enough. We knew one of you would try something like this; we just didn’t know when.”

“Fair enough.” _You can run any minute now._

“Your weapon is very nice. Tell me, is that plated bronze?”

“None of your business.”

“Who forged it?”

“How do you know I didn’t forge it myself?”

“This conversation is going nowhere,” says the troll, and the mace in her hand swings back and forth. “If you are only going to give me variants of ‘none of your business’ and ‘I work alone’, we won’t learn a thing about each other.”

“What is there to tell you?” you say. “For all you know, I could be a crazy hermit from the Dead-End Province. I don’t matter; my sword doesn’t matter.”

“The gem does.” The troll takes another step towards you, her mace still swinging. “I don’t think you understand the full ramifications of what you’ve done. Did my companion tell you what happens to trolls who steal?”

“Death.” You take a step backwards, fighting to remain casual. “Not that big a surprise. Half your crimes are punishable by death—it isn’t exactly new information.”

“That’s true. Did he tell you about the punishment ladder?”

“The what?” You take another step. “Never heard of it.”

“I’ll tell you about it some other time, perhaps. Suffice it to say that because you are human, the punishments our government can administer are a couple rungs lower on the punishment ladder. Death is the second-highest rung, severe torture being the highest. For your theft, you will not be killed, but you _will_ be held accountable by some other means.”

You squint at her through the darkness. “You don’t sound like a hit-man,” you say. “Not angry enough for that. What’s your blood color?”

“Teal.”

“Middle of the spectrum, okay. I know nothing about you guys’ hemospectrum shit, but that is definitely not low enough for guard duty.”

“I’m not an ordinary guard,” she says. “But you’ll have time to learn about that, won’t you? In fact, I’d say you’ll be learning plenty of things where you’re going.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile is thin-lipped. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she says.

You run. The troll is behind you, and you’re running, past the vault and past the trees and past the sign in a language you don’t know, and you’re running. You could run for miles. You are practically home free. The palace will have to wipe this chick’s memory somehow, but that can be arranged. Two trolls, no big deal. There’ve been worse incidents.

You stop when you reach the barrier.

The barrier is big and purple. It stretches up into the heavens, and it is completely opaque, and it looks unquestionably magical.

You blink. Yep, it’s magical.

“You didn’t tell me you guys had a barrier,” you say.

“Of course we have a barrier,” says the troll. She’s behind you still, not at all out of breath; if anything, she sounds closer than before. “Why do you think you can’t communicate with your partner?”

You spin around to look at the troll. She does not smile, but holds the mace tightly, preparedly.

Your eyes fall on the necklace she wears. It’s a Mind necklace, a necessity for Alternian visitors to Skaia. Alternians do not speak Skaian, but wearing the necklace lets them communicate in your language anyway; they’re pretty expensive, but diplomats can’t get by without them.

“I see you’ve found my necklace,” she says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Can I still give the gem back?”

“You’ll be giving the gem back whether you wish to or not. If you mean to bargain your safe escape for the return of the gem, the answer is no.”

Your fingers twitch. “Does the barrier have an end?” you say.

“Thousands of feet up. You cannot jump that high.”

_Is it worth it?_ you think.

_No. Of course not._

“Which rung am I getting on the punishment ladder?”

“What do you think?” says the troll.

“A couple days’ arrest. I’ll be interrogated; you’ll try to find out who my partner is. You won’t succeed, somebody will pay my bail, and you’ll be forced to release me. How close am I?”

“Not very.” The mace hangs from her hand. Your sword feels heavy in your grip.

“I don’t want to fight you,” you say.

“I agree. Fighting is unnecessary, but you wouldn’t surrender otherwise, would you?”

You shake your head.

By the end of the fight, you are both bleeding. Her pants are stained with teal, your arm has several long scratches, and you are out of breath. Her hair is no longer tidy; your foot hurts where she rammed the mace’s handle into it.

She is underneath your blade.

“I’m not killing you,” you say.

“Then you are merciful,” she says. “I respect your judgment.”

“Tell me how to get out of here.”

“You cannot get out. I am not the only guard—all the others know you’re here, and they’ll be more than willing to apprehend you if I fail. The barrier is also impenetrable. If you attempt to break through, your consciousness will be ripped from you, and you will collapse.”

“Fuck.” You look around at the other buildings, your escape plans disintegrating one by one. If what she says is true, you’re stuck in the Alternian diplomats’ camp until the barrier goes down, and a horde of angry trolls are hiding in the bushes somewhere, waiting for you to take out this chick so they can jump you.

“You think these gloves will stop the barrier?” you ask.

“No.”

“How good are your teammates at close-range combat?”

“Fairly decent. They’re all right at what they do, though I wouldn’t suggest you try taking them all out. One way or another, we will have justice.”

“Justice. Right.” You see blurred movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you glance to the side, no one is visible. “How many guards are there?”

“A lot. You are more skilled than them, but even if you dispose of them all, the barrier will still stand. When morning comes, I can guarantee you’ll still be stranded here.”

You groan. “Gods, is there any other way to leave this hellhole? Do you expect me to dig a fucking tunnel to the other side?”

“There is no way out,” the troll says with finality. Her head hits the ground, and when you use the sword’s flat end on her, she does not stir.

You rise to your feet. The night is still dark as ever, and only moonlight makes the camp visible to human eyes. The trolls can see in the dark, you know; every piece-of-shit guard in this place is probably crowded just outside your line of sight. Though it doesn’t guarantee victory for them, it _does_ mean it’ll be harder to knock them all out.

“Wish me luck,” you say to the amulet. No one responds.

You turn to the barrier. Is it possible to toss things through to the other side? Since it’s magical, you may be able to throw items through there, hopefully without too much damage. If you got the amulet through the barrier, would Jade be able to tell you’re here?

You approach the barrier, removing the amulet from your neck. _She’s a Space whiz_ , you try to assure yourself. _The map will show her the amulet. You’ll get out of here. Calm the fuck down._

You barely have time to blink before a force hits you from behind.

You’re falling face-first towards the barrier. You’re falling face-first _into_ the barrier.

Purple magic surrounds you.

_Are you fucking kidding me_ , you think as consciousness slips away.


End file.
